Monday, August 03, 2015

And today we have a guest blogger! My big brudder (aka: brother) James Michael Woods. I'm grateful he didn't kill me when we were kids and he had the opportunity. James has his own blog and this was a part of the product recently...

It’s not easy being eleven years oldAnd confined to the Impala’s backseatFor twelveStiflingly hot hoursWith the windows downAnd August’s thunder of rushing airSo loudThe AM radio could not be heardAnd my nine year old brotherProtesting (accurately)That I had wantonlyCrossed the invisible lineWe had established as the DMZBetween us on theSweltering black vinyl seat.Dad did not believe in potty breaksSo we drank littleAs we counted mile markersDown US 66And read Burma Shave signs...If Hugging on HighwaysIs Your SportTrade In Your CarFor A Davenport!Deep into the nightDad searched for a bargain motel.They always looked beautifulWashed in red and blue neon lightsAffixed where gutters should have been.The cabins typically were walledIn knotty pineThe in-window air conditioners rumblingLike an idling diesel.The beds were sometimes equipped withMagic FingersThat shook the mattressFor ten minutesThe way a wet dog shakes itself.Fifteen bucks for the roomAnd a dime for the vibrating bed.Glorious!The black and white TV’sWith "rabbit ears"Received a station or twoBut often had to be smacked on the sideTo stop the picture from rolling.But that didn’t matter.We were on vacation!Mom and dad tantalized usWith promises of stopping the next day atThe Ozark Mule Trading PostWhere, if we were goodCould buy a pecan log candy bar (my choice)Or a box of malted milk balls (my brother's choice)!The new DMZ was now drawn downThe center of our bedBut that was okayBecause sleeping brothers cross that lineAll night long.Those days live only in memory.I’ve stayed at expensive hotelsAte wonderful dinnersAnd haven’t desired a pecan logFor fifty five years.TheOzark Muleis in ruinsAs well those bargain motels.Movies can be had on any Smart PhoneAnd today's kids don’t knowWhat an AM radio isMuch less "rabbit ears"And rolling pictures.My brother and I love one anotherAnd the idea of any DMZBetween us is laughable.I spoke with him last night.(Actually, texting has supplanted voice.)But we are loyal citizens of the backseatWhere memories of oppressive heatFading AM signalsCheap motelsAnd too-few potty breaksHave served to make aging brothersBecome young once more.I would do every bit ofThose rattling road tripsOver againWith one exception…There is never to be anotherNo-man’s landBetween Ron’s half of the ImpalaAnd mine

James, you are far more gifted at writing than I ever dreamed of being. Thanks for the memories!

1 comments:

If I am better (and I'm not) it' just 'cuz while you were dating your beautiful one-day bride, I was busy trying to write term papers for a cruel Old Testament professor, who never met a dangling participle he ever liked! (Thanks, Dr. Pratt!). It's an honor to be your Guest Blogger. I owe you some Malted Milk Balls.